My name is Pietro Grifan. I’m a member of the OSS (italian anti-Nazi resistance movement) stationed in Grosseto, a city no more than 50 miles from Rome. My fellow comrades and I are awaiting Allied Forces from the U.S. and England, to help us drive the Germans out of our country’s capital. My brother Roberto and I were playing poker with our bunkmates, when Officer Jackson of the United States Air Force burst in and yelled, “Gear up you Italian bums, the battle started and we need all the men we can get. So move it!” Roberto looked at me with fear in his eyes, as if to say “You ready?” I nodded. That was the last thing I would see before we went into battle.  It was hard to imagine that just a few months ago we were on our own,  roaming the streets of Italy desperately trying to find food, clothing, blankets, and guns. We were looking for anything that would keep our family alive, even if it was only for a night.  Our concern was for ourselves and our own survival.

Everything changed for us on a day that seemed like any other, when we were out salvaging food from a ruined cafe.  We were suddenly ambushed by a group of masked men, who dragged Roberto and I into a truck full of more salvagers like us. At first Roberto and I were certain we were being drafted into the Nazi German Army, or taken to a concentration camp.  We were terrified. The thing we most feared had come to pass. The relief was overwhelming when we were instead given the amazing opportunity to join the OSS, a rising resistance movement in central Italy. We accepted this unexpected chance faster than we would have accepted a hot bowl soup at that moment.  Neither of us had any idea, however, how dangerous and long this struggle would be, or how many lives would eventually be lost in the fight to come.

Our first mission was to capture, and then destroy, a German train of weapons, ammo, and other supplies traveling from Berlin to German controlled strongholds in Italy. We waited at a deserted train station that we turned into a command post for the operation. In order for the plan to work, one of us would have to run onto the tracks and drop the explosives just before the train arrived, so it would have no time to stop before the explosion. We decided to draw straws out of a bucket to see who would have to go. Thankfully it was not me. Unfortunately it was Roberto.  I told him, “Robby I am the older brother, it should be me.”  He laughed like he did when we were carefree children and said, “ Don’t worry big brother, you know I can run like the wind.” At first I was not overly concerned. Roberto had run track in high school, but I was worried about how fast the train would be going. At over a hundred miles an hour, he would only have a 30 second window, at the most. He would have to time it just right.

At 2:00 am sharp the train’s horn started to sound. Less than a minute later it was within range. As we all watched and held our breaths, Roberto ran as fast as he could. Then to our horror, right before the tracks, he came to a dead stop and we had no idea why. Jackson was furious and wanted to punish him for his cowardice. I knew my brother and I knew he couldn’t have acted out of fear.  The truth came out in short order when we learned that our information had been faulty and there were actually no munitions on that train. It was a Hitler youth train, full of young kids. The bomb would have derailed the train,  killing who knows how many kids in the crash.  That’s not what we were trying to accomplish.  My brother had acted properly, even heroically, and our commander respected him after that.

Our work, however, to free our homeland,  had to go on.The air around Rome was cold, smoke filled and almost unbreathable.  The stench of war was everywhere.  Our new orders came directly from U.S. Army General Douglas MacArthur. The Allied Armies could have taken back Rome months ago, but the Krautz had set up large fortified anti-aircraft gun and mortar positions all throughout the city, preventing reinforcements from coming in from the air. Our job was simple.  We had to locate the A-A guns and destroy them so we could get air support.  Well maybe not so simple. War never is.

The 1st A-A gun we knew about was hidden in a large park west of the City Center.  Stealthy actions had to be a major priority. If the Axis didn’t know we were coming it would be easier to attack the gun and less dangerous. In order for the plan to work, the American tank division would push the Krautz to the City Center, while we would sneak into the park to destroy the target or targets hidden there. We entered the park through a hole in the fence no bigger than a sewer pipe. The A-A gun was hidden in a patch of trees. The operation did not go smoothly.  The Germans became aware of us too soon and opened fired.  We had very little time to react.  Three of my friends were killed in a split second.  We suddenly noticed a small trench near the bottom of the hill, unused as far as we could see. We all decided  that our only chance was to make a run for it and we ran at full speed. Two more of our friends were cut down. 

Officer Jackson, Roberto, two other members of the unit, and I made it into the trench. We moved swiftly through the trench as bullets flew everywhere. Jackson took a bullet in the shoulder and fell. Roberto and I moved towards the gun. I planted the bomb, while Roberto and a wounded Jackson held off the Krautz.  By this time the Nazis had figured out that the tank charge was a trick and started to move their armored trucks to the park. We were surrounded…...  I had never been so scared, but we weren’t fighting for our lives. We were fighting for the freedom of Italy and our countrymen and whatever sacrifices we had to make this day worthwhile. More were to come if the enemy was to be defeated and our people saved.